Wednesday, 20 June 2012

Despite the morning sickness and numerous positive pregnancy tests I found it very hard to believe I was pregnant. Not because I thought I would miscarry, I didn't at all - I was pretty confident that I was going to go full term once I've seen the heartbeat at six weeks - but I couldn't equate how I felt with an actual baby.

I think that made IVFgate a bit easier.

I don't feel like I lost a child in the same way I might if I had seen a recognisable baby at the ultra-sound.

But I have lost so much.

I couldn't tell you without checking what the due date would have been for any of my previous IVF's. This one, when I really did have a due date, means the 21st December will be ingrained forever.

I let myself look forward. For the first time in years I truly imagined the future and some of those thoughts stayed with me. Even after IVFgate I found I'd programmed the thoughts in to my brain deep.

Things like:

"Finally I won't have a Christmas wondering if I'll have a baby by next Christmas."

"Baby born in the year of the dragon, like me!"

"That's a nice name .. shall we use it?"

"Hello baby ... hello baby" (to my stomach).

"And when I have my 12 week scan I'll ring my Grandad first..."

"I can't wait to feel the first kick."

"I wonder how long I'll be able to wear these trousers for."

"All the relatives will breathe a sign of relief that I don't have to watch my twin sister go through a pregnancy whilst I wait barrenly."

"Can I take all of 2013 off as maternity leave?"

"It'll be great for the little one to have cousins so close in age." (The husband's brother's first baby was born last week, the womb mate is due in October.)

"We've got a great excuse for staying at home this Christmas."

I can't forget these thoughts. They pop into my head at the strangest moments and I have to quickly remind myself that everything has changed.

I can really relate to those programmed thoughts. The next nine months of my life were thought about very differently just yesterday than they are today. I imagine that will continue for a while, and as those dates and holidays come around, we will once again be reminded of what we lost.

This is the perfect space to get those things out. I remember a very similar experiences with my losses. It was almost automatic, and so heartbreaking each time. I'm sorry that you have to go through this too. Hugs.

Oh yes, that was the way it went. I have to say, that you are giving me PTSD in some ways- your path is way too familiar.

My due date was dec 28, and I was unhappy about it as I knew that I would have to spend the last month in subtropical summer he*l and the baby would have a b day too close to Christmas. But would much rather have had those problems- and it kept reoccuring to me for the next year.

All of which is to say, I know what you are going through, and it is not fun. It doesn't go away completely, but it does get better.

My fertility specialist once told me that it just meant that it preparing the way for something better- but that just makes me want to knock his head off, and completely erases the benefit of his you never fully get over miscarriage comment. But somebody must have found it of value.

The thought about calling your Grandad nearly had me in tears. I wish we could all somehow make this grieving process easier for you - I'm so, so sorry that you're having to go through this.

I've always found writing things down to be very cathartic as well but don't be afraid to try other methods too, like counselling if you think it might help. From bitter experience, I've found that grief always comes back to bite you at the most unepxected times, even if you think you've made peace with it.

Then again, I've found reading sad poetry, drinking lots of wine and eating shedloads of chocolate helpful with tough situations too, so what do I know!

It sucks, so hard. In my experience, it pretty terrible until the due date, because it's so hard not to mark the "should have been"s, and then it gets better. But, it never really goes away, it's an invisible scar.I was so sad to read your news and stupid blogger wouldn't let me comment for weeks, but you have been very much in my thoughts. If you don't *always* cry, you're doing alright.xx

Not sure if this helps: with my second loss (the worst one) I would wake up and slowly remember that I wasn't pregnant anymore. It was the strangest thing, like every morning I had to relearn it. I'd really thought that one would work and the reality took so long to work it's way into my thoughts. But it did, and while it hurt like hell to let go of those plans and those thoughts, eventually, other plans and thoughts replaced them. And, very eventually, so did a living baby.

(It goes without saying that this is my hope for you. Minus the "eventually" bit.)

Oh man. I'm so sad to read about all you've been through. I was so chuffed for your positive result - this is just so cruel or to use the favourite expression of a friend of mine - totally crud. Thinking of you now xx

Yep. I get it. It's a bit like short term memory loss -- every day you have to re-learn what you have lost. I do the same things (example: this week would be the week that we would tell our families) and hope only for you that this is all made somewhat less bitter by another pregnancy that leads to a healthy baby.

Oh Liz...my heart breaks for you to read this. I know this oh so well. May 17th will forever be a day that was the due date of my first pregnancy with twins. It has been 6 years and I still get a little melancholy when that day approaches. I'm thinking of you and sending warm cyber hugs your way....and it really is okay to cry every time. Hugs.Karaleen

I am so, so sorry...this post made me so sad. You are always so brave and approach things with such a sense of humor that to read this made my heart hurt for you. I am praying that you will get pregnant soon, which will help heal the hurt from all of this. Thinking of you...

This just sucks. I will say that it eventually gets better. Regardless of whether you saw a "baby-looking" baby on your US, you were pregnant and that is the worst kind of loss to grieve. Those moments when unbidden pregnancy related thoughts pop up are just terrible. Praying that they come fewer and farther between in the coming days, until it's time to think them again!

We lost a baby that would have been due on 21st December 2007, and that date is forever etched in my conciousness. I can remember thinking all those things you said in this post. Conincidentally, a colleague of mine has a little girl who was born on that date. Any time I see her, I think of what might have been. So, so sorry for your loss Liz x

I can tell you I've had all these thoughts. And yes, your brain is programmed to think them, and so it takes a while to reprogramme your brain too. Or at least, that's how it worked for me. So every time you think these things, you feel the hurt anew. I've equated it to having a bruise, and then continuing to thump it regularly. The hurt - as you are finding - gets worse before it gets better. But it does stop. Your brain protects yourself and stops the thoughts, or at least changes the whens to ifs, which are much easier to bear.

I hope it offers you some comfort to know that your honest words are so helpful to people who are experiencing the same pain. I can tell you from my own 'IVFgate' in January (8.5 weeks, missed miscarriage) that time does help. The pain doesn't go away, but it somehow gets easier on a day to day basis. Until some days when it isn't easier, and then a mixture of crying and sometimes alcohol are helpful:.). Cry as much and as often and even as randomly as you need - nothing wrong with that. Offering hugs while simultaneously shaking my fist at the universe on your behalf.

My heart is absolutely broken for you. I remember very, very clearly having almost the exact same thoughts and (unfortunately) numerous points in my (in)fertility journey. For me hearing the "success after miscarriage" stories did absolutely nothing for me, so I will spare you the same grief. Saying "this sucks" doesn't really even cover it. I symbolically shake an angry fist at the universe, and am mentally reaching across the ocean to give you a hug filled with strength and solidarity. I'm so sorry for your loss.